


Inconvenient Timing

by wyntera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M, McHanzo Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:52:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8936290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: McHanzo Week Day 4 Prompt: Role Reversal - Body Swap
One of the more fun mission 'incidents' McCree has ever experienced in Overwatch, but couldn't it have waited just one more week?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Never done a bodyswap fic before, so here's hoping that who is doing what in which body makes sense. Oh well, use context clues, have fun with it! <3

“Okay, okay, okay, I’m ready, I’m ready,” Genji says, sitting perched on the edge of his jump seat in eager anticipation. On either side Hana and Lúcio are only marginally less excited, only because it is not like Hanzo is their brother. This is like a dream come true for Genji.

Hanzo stands before them with a broad smile on his face, stance easy and off-kilter, far more relaxed than they have ever seen him. “A’ight, here goes,” he says, words coming out in an uncanny mimic of southwestern United States dialect, mouth forming the syllables in a way he never can normally. He makes a motion in front of him, drawing his pinched fingers down like an actor preparing for a scene. Then, with exaggerated movements, he tugs the tie out of his hair and flip-swishes his dark locks around in a perfect imitation of a shampoo commercial. He finishes it with a sultry look, shoulders drawn up seductively.

The three seated before him howl with laughter.

“I am going to kill him,” McCree groans, stilted and clipped, pinching the bridge of his nose. Or, McCree’s body groans. Hanzo is the one controlling it at the moment, just as McCree is the one making a fool out of himself using Hanzo as a vessel.

They got called out for a mission right as Hanzo was helping his boyfriend wrap the last of their presents. Of course Talon would cause trouble on Christmas Eve and drag the rest of them out to squander the night. The specifics of just what happened are a little blurry, but to be fair Hanzo was knocked unconscious at the time. All he really knows for sure is Lena’s chronal accelerator took a direct shot from Widowmaker’s rifle at the exact moment Ana struck her with her Nano Boost. The resulting explosion enveloped both himself and McCree in a bright blue shockwave, and when he awoke he was no longer himself.

McCree is having far too much fun given the seriousness of the situation.

“I am so sorry,” Lena says for perhaps the hundredth time this hour. Her memory is flickering in and out thanks to the damage to the accelerator, so she keeps forgetting that she has already apologized profusely. It is not like he blames her; she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Plus she has been wearing a surprisingly adorable elf hat for the past week, and how can someone stay mad at a cute elf?

“It is not your fault,” he assures her again. “Besides, you are not making him act like...this.”

Before them, McCree-as-Hanzo is attempting a series of shaky pirouettes that makes him tip over and stumble like a drunkard. Genji has been cheerfully suggesting things for McCree to do the whole ride back to Gibraltar. And unfortunately it takes very little prompting for his boyfriend to make a fool of himself.

“I can’t believe we aren’t recording this!” Hana wails, digging through the candy cane box in her lap and sticking one in her mouth as McCree uses his new reflexes to scale the wall. He hangs from one of the metal struts overhead with hardly any effort at all.

“Sorry, cupcake, house rules,” McCree replies, doing a few hanging sit-ups. He could never do that, even when he was in his prime. He pushes off and does a backflip to land on the floor with a loud clang, only wobbling a little on the dismount. “Enjoy it while you can.”

“This is the best day of my life,” Genji giggles, knees bouncing happily.

McCree lights up with a new thought. “Oh, oh, I got a good one!”

He reaches up and Hanzo has time to blurt, “No, McCree, don’t--!” but it is too late. McCree has already pushed the other side of his kyodo-gi off his shoulder and bared his entire upper body to the gathered group. And then he begins to flex. “Oh yeah, you like that?” he asks, twisting this way and that to show off muscles made strong from years of archery. “Yeah you do. Welcome to the gun show!”

Genji is holding his sides through his armor and now everyone knows what he sounds like snorting through his mask. “I’m going to die! Oh my God, you’re killing me!” Then he pauses, realizes what he said, then screams with more laughter.

“I didn’t know McCree could blush like that,” Lena says, biting her lip to keep from laughing at Hanzo’s misery. “Hey, you could always do stuff, too, you know. Do something that would embarrass him back.”

Hanzo buries McCree’s burning face in his hands, only startling slightly when one of them is much less real than the other. “He would just think it is funny,” comes his muffled whine. “He is shameless.”

“That’s what you get for dating Jesse. Maybe you could--uh. Uh oh. Brace yourself.”

“What?” he asks, raising his head, and _oh no._

McCree must have leaned over to whisper something to his captive audience because they are all grinning like Cheshire cats. Lúcio covers his mouth and starts to beatbox a slow rhythm while Hana hands McCree one of the long candy canes, then McCree turns on Hanzo with a seductive smirk. “Hey there hot stuff,” he purrs, and yes, Hanzo is going to kill him.

“Jesse. McCree. If you know what is good for you, you won’t--”

_“Santa baby--”_

“No.”

_“Slip a sable under the tree--”_

“NO!”

_“--for me. Been an awful good boy, Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight!”_

He coyly saunters up to Hanzo as he sings into the candy cane like a microphone, and despite looking at himself it seems McCree’s body knows what it likes. Hanzo surges to his feet in embarrassment, for multiple reasons, and the shift in his center of gravity makes him sway dizzily. The amusement falls off his own face in front of him and McCree reaches out with a steadying hand, but Hanzo will have none of it. Snatching the cowboy hat and serape from where he laid them--how McCree can stand them all the time he will never know, with how hot they are--he stalks off to the front of the ship without another word.

 

\---

 

“I’m sorry.”

Hanzo clenches his jaw in an attempt to keep any emotion other than indifference off McCree’s scruffy face. He heard McCree coming, of course. The other man walks around with heavy boots and spurs all the time, so of course he does not know how to tread lightly on Hanzo’s prosthetic legs. He had wondered, briefly, if the other man felt as thrown by them as Hanzo is by the lack of a left arm.

Ignoring McCree for the moment, Hanzo keeps his eyes down on his equipment. He needed to re-string his bow, even if it feels all wrong with these hands, and the ammunitions closet had seemed like as good a place to do it as their rooms. Especially since he knew McCree would be there. 

The light shifts as McCree comes in and shuts the door behind him, the click loud in the quiet room. He walks over slowly and hesitates just a moment before sitting on the crate across from him. His clothes are back in place, at least. “It was stupid, and I wasn’t thinking.”

Hanzo glances up at himself wearing all of McCree’s guilty, apologetic mannerisms. His dark hair is still hanging loose. Not that Hanzo blames him for that; he pulled McCree’s hair up into a messy pony tail the moment he could. “You embarrassed me.”

“I know,” he winces, dropping his gaze. “I’m so sorry. It was supposed to be all in good fun, and Genji was eatin’ it up, and...I screwed up.”

“Do I really sound like that?” Hanzo asks, one thing gnawing at him more than the others.

McCree glances up, confused. “Like what?”

“When I sing. Do I sound so…” He waves his hand in a noncommittal way, not sure how to describe it. “Like that?”

“If you mean lovely and perfect in every way, then yes, that’s how you sound, sug,” McCree replies, smiling slightly before it fades. “You mad?”

Hanzo shakes his head, giving the bowstring a little test before setting it aside. “No. It was...a little funny. And I have never seen Genji that tickled. But you know I am going to find a way to get back at you for this, right?”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his hands. “I have it comin’, it’s alright. Just try not to make it too painful.”

“Not too painful,” Hanzo promises, willing himself to let it go for now. He has found Jesse has made it a lot easier for him to just be, without pushing for perfection. “Any word from Winston?”

“He hopes to have a solution by tomorrow. Until then we aren’t to leave the base, and if there are any adverse effects we should come see him or Angela right away.” McCree bites his lip, turning sad. “Not exactly how I imagined this Christmas. 

“Who could imagine this?” he replies. The forlorn look on McCree’s face draws concern. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“It is not nothing.” Hanzo pushes their feet together, a light push. “Tell me.”

“Tonight just...isn’t going exactly as I planned,” McCree admits, a touch of nerves in his voice.

“You had a plan?”

“I did, as a matter of fact.” McCree looks at him for a long moment. It is weird to have his own calculating staring him down. No wonder McCree squirms under its strength. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to...I don’t know. Not be mad or freak out.”

Well, that is a worrying string of words. “I...promise?”

McCree scratches at the back of his neck--another nervous tell--then says, “Before we got the emergency call, we were finishin’ up our presents, right?”

“Yes, we were almost done,” Hanzo says, frowning.

“We were going to get everything set up under the tree, and spend the evening just the two of us before the party tomorrow.” He takes a breath, nodding at Hanzo’s side. “There was one more, in your pocket. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t find it before now.”

Confusion growing, Hanzo reaches into the pocket on McCree’s belt. His fingers close around a small box covered in soft black velvet. McCree pushes off his crate and eases down to kneel, taking the box from Hanzo’s suddenly trembling fingers. “What are you doing?”

“I’m doin’ this on Christmas Eve, Talon be damned,” McCree says, taking his own--Hanzo’s hand in his. “Hanzo, these last years knowin’ you, they’ve been the best--”

“Wait!”

McCree blinks up at him, his carefully planned speech thrown for a loop. “Darlin’?”

He covers McCree’s hand with his own, the box trapped between their fingers. “Jesse,” he says, the American accent warbling with suppressed emotion. “Ask me when the ring fits.”

McCree’s other hand tightens on Hanzo’s knee. They stare at each other a long moment. Hanzo can see the pieces fall in place as his face breaks out into a giddy smile. “What if we never get turned back?”

“Then ask me when you get this one resized.” He tugs the box back from McCree’s hold and tucks it safely in the pocket again. He uses the time he spends making sure the clasp is closed tight to get his own excitement under control. “Christmas proposals are cliché, anyway.”

“That’s what Genji said. Y’all are just too cynical for your own good, you know that?” McCree reaches up and cradles Hanzo’s face with his hands. “As weird as this is, I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Making a mental note to grill Genji for not telling him this was coming, Hanzo lets McCree draw him down into the kiss. It is weird, but not as weird as he expected it to be. They both have facial hair, they both tilt their heads to the right. They both love each other. With eyes closed he can almost pretend their bodies match their minds.

Then blunt nails run over a seemingly innocuous stretch of skin along Hanzo’s side, right below his ribs. The startled moan that it draws from his lips is nearly pornographic. He pulls back to stare at McCree incredulously. “What was that?”

McCree’s sly grin makes Hanzo’s face look downright sinful. “I was thinking, earlier, about how this is a mighty fine opportunity to teach each other just where we like to touch. Nobody knows our bodies better than we do, right?”

Hanzo swallows. “You do not think that would be awkward?”

“I think you’re finally tall enough to try that position you like,” McCree replies. He quirks an eyebrow, a clear challenge.

McCree sings the rest of _Santa Baby_ all the way back to their rooms, slung over Hanzo’s shoulder and giggling every time Hanzo growls for him to stop. For all his huffed warnings Hanzo is still sneaking some gropes at McCree’s backside. He is so looking forward to getting punished for this one.


End file.
